Hushed Willows A Silent Retreat

There was a smoldering to Kirain that had appeared doused in her exhaustion. Wake saw now that there was a fire inside her that refused to be snuffed out, and he would be glad to feed it oxygen and shield the flames from rainfall.

Some do not survive such hurt, the snowtreader debated in that gentle, narcotic way he spoke. Some do lie down and never rise again. They wither until it is too late to recover, or they end it swiftly. Did she know the feeling of standing on the edge, overlooking the nothingness of open air, preparing to jump? Some choose not to follow their instincts. They disregard the Rhythm, and it is a craven thing to do. Cowards.

The choice to press on, to rise each day and do what needed to be done, was a brave thing in Wake’s mind, even if it was not in Kirain’s. It was a decision as much as it was impulse, and she had chosen right.

He filed away her virtues and knowledge, keen to see her proficiency expanded. I know of at least one pack with healers in their midst. I cannot guarantee they will share their wisdom, but I should like to introduce you, when you have gathered your strength.

Listening intently to Wake's words, Kirain paused at something. Rhythm? What do you mean by Rhythm? I know of balance, the give and take of life, the ebb and flow, an endless loop. But what is this Rhythm? Is it similar? Her curiosity was piqued by his comment. The word seemed so natural on his tongue, yet... there was something about it that tugged at her interest, like a distant melody waiting to be understood.

As their conversation lingered in her mind, she turned her attention back to the raccoon before her. A flicker of shame crossed her face as she realized how thoroughly she'd neglected the meal in favor of their exchange. She leaned down and resumed eating, her movements more deliberate now, hunger clawing its way to the surface as her stubbornness gave way. Each bite she chewed with renewed purpose, driven by the need to regain her strength, especially after Wake’s mention of other healers.

Between mouthfuls, she glanced up at him. I'd really like that, Wake. Even if they say no, it would be comforting to know others. She nodded slightly, as if to reassure herself, before returning her focus to the kill.

The Rhythm is nature, Wake said simply. It is our impulses. It is the thing that connects us all. It is fate itself. He did not get up to emphasize his words; the information relayed from his prone and relaxed position in a matter-of-fact manner.

You speak of it when you speak of balance. Life and death are also a part of the Rhythm, the missionary went on to explain. The turn of day and night, the passing of the seasons. From the weather, down to the prey we catch. To the things that prey on us. It is all the Rhythm of things, whether one accepts it or not.

Wake glanced to see her eat with more voraciousness than before, at last giving in to her hunger. You will meet who I know and meet many more on your own, he smiled. The valley is richly populated. Which would make for the most interesting existence, in his opinion. Why be a pack in isolation when they could instead make friends? And what were friends if not useful.

Her ears flicked subtly as she absorbed his explanation, realizing her beliefs aligned with his more closely than she expected, even if she had never named it the same way. Rhythm. It was a beautiful concept, one that made perfect sense when thought of as the natural beat of the world. Every whisper of the wind, every drop of rain, every thudding heartbeat was part of that endless, intricate cadence. The thought settled over her like a calming melody, as though life’s chaotic symphony had finally struck the right chord, resonating deep within her.

I look forward to it, truth be told, she admitted, her voice tinged with genuine interest. But where exactly are we going? You mention a valley, I’ve seen many in my time, but where have you decided to lay claim? She cocked her head to the side, her gaze steady on him, curiosity lighting up her features. I’ve not come across many places that are heavily populated.

Wake was glad for Kirain’s inquisitiveness; her mind very much alive even as her body quailed.

South of here, he explained, motioning with a turn of his ear. We will stay in the valley there, and also in the mountains. I will show you my vision of four adjoining lands, and we will claim one for each of the seasons if all things go to plan. There was still the matter of finding acceptance of their presence in the occupied valley and getting along with the other packs.

Summers in the mountains, a meadow in autumn, forests for the winters and springs. He breathed a deep sigh, though he was not merely content to live his fantasy in imagination only. Dark eyes searched Kirain’s expression as she ate, trying to ascertain her thoughts on his ambitions.

Four adjoining lands? And that won't interfere with the packs already there? The last thing we want is to trespass on claimed territory or draw more attention than necessary. Becoming a nuisance would only harm us, wouldn't it? She weighed his words carefully, turning them over in her mind as she picked at the last scraps of the raccoon. A nomadic life was all she'd known, so the concept of rotating between four main areas didn't seem particularly challenging.

But why there? What makes that place so certain in your mind? What's so special about it? She hoped her questions weren’t grating on him. She didn’t doubt his conviction, if anything, his certainty was reassuring, but she sought deeper understanding. If she was to support him fully, she needed to see the reasoning as clearly as he did.

Are you afraid? Wake smiled curiously, his gaze steadying on her face from his position in the dirt. He didn’t appear to be at all concerned with the valid things she asked, nor did the fact that she asked them seem to disturb him. There was an answer for all her questions in his vainglorious head, and he did not mind providing them.

He remained a river of water, ever-flowing and bending, yet persistent in its path.

We will be neighbors, not nuisances, he seemed to wink. I chose that place because there are many wolves there, this is what makes it special to me. I willnot lie and say that there will be no quandaries, or, or challenges, but conflict and competition are nothing to fear, my lady. They are better than isolation.

Wake did not think she would feel the same. It also occurred to him that she might even think he was looking for trouble when—surely—this could not be further from the truth. He did not see her as the type to conscript to the high-risk-high-reward lifestyle, so he thought he must also tell her why their time could be well spent:

Just imagine if we can get along with these others, he invited her to think about what they could gain from his choice of location rather than what they were risking. That would mean alliances for us, bonds which we will always need, but especially now while we build.

Future teachers, hunting partners, colleagues, friends, family, packmates, defenders, rivals, lovers... Sure, feuding, famine, and fallout were all possibilities, too, but there was also a universe where those things might not happen. However, only time would tell if this was to be Wake’s reality.

And if it is not for us, then it is not. There will always be elsewhere.